


Loss of control

by elaiel



Series: Control Universe [2]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaiel/pseuds/elaiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles set in the same AU as Control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Torment

"Good leave Sergeant?"  
Greer looked up from his seat in the mess. "Colonel." He acknowledged Young. "Yes sir. I had a good time with my mom. She enjoyed the museum you suggested sir, she liked the art a lot. It wasn't too bad."  
"Yeah, I was surprised I wasn't bored when I went too." Young gave a wry smile.  
"I saw TJ too." Said Greer turning to grab his jello. "Not to talk to mind you, we were just getting into a taxi and she was walking past."  
Young froze, momentarily then dragged himself together before Greer looked up, putting on an interested face. "Yeah? James was saying they were surprised she's not been in touch with anyone since she left."  
"Well, she looked fine sir. I didn't realise she'd got a boyfriend or anything but she's obviously settling down now sir."  
Young tried desperately not to look too interested. "Oh she was with someone?"  
"No sir, she was quite a lot pregnant sir." Greer was smiling. "It suited her."  
Young couldn't get enough air into his lungs. He forced himself to breath. "Wow." He said, amazed how calm he sounded. "I thought she was training to be a doctor."  
"Oh, that too." Greer said. "She was carrying like medical books."  
Young nodded, smiled and walked out. He needed to get out. He needed to get out now.  
He stood under the wrong sun, on the desolate landscape of the wrong planet trying to work out how the hell he could get back to Earth. How the hell he could get back to her. How the hell he had missed something so fundamental. How the hell he was going to square this with TJ.  
And Emily.


	2. Obligation

"TJ." Young couldn't keep the hoarseness out of his voice. "TJ!" He knocked on the door again.  
There were muffled footsteps on the other sided of the door, coming closer down the small hallway. The door opened on the security chain, and a face peeped through the gap, bed mussed blonde hair and sleep confused blue eyes widening to panic as they focussed on his face.  
"Oh."  
Young looked at her. She stared back. "Are you going to let me in?"  
She seemed to consider this for a moment, before closing the door. He heard her unhitch the security chain and open the door again, stepping back and pulling it wide to let him in.  
The apartment was tiny, two rooms off a tiny hallway, leading to a living room and kitchenette off of it. She shut the door behind him and he waited for her to lead him along to the living room. As she relocked the door Young looked her up and down. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and pair of old sweats, slung low beneath her unmistakeably pregnant belly, over which stretched the t-shirt, deforming the sports brand logo printed on it.  
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, voice cracking. Looking at how pregnant she was now the dates were inescapable.   
"You're married Everett." She said simply. "I didn't think I needed to ruin your life too."   
"Didn't you think I ought to know?" he demanded. "It's my baby too. I have a responsibility."  
She sat down on the ancient couch, shifting to get comfortable. Young leaned on the kitchen counter.  
"Has it really ruined your life?" He asked.  
"She." TJ said. "Not it, she."  
Young gulped. "I'll do…"  
"You'll do what?" It was her turn to demand of him in an angry voice. "You'll do the right thing?"  
"Please…" His voice failed him and the reply came out as a hoarse whisper. "I'll do…I'll do anything."


	3. Mask

Rush kept his face neutral, hard and avoided eye contact as he walked into the mess. It wasn't hard, it was pretty much how had always looked. But now the looks from the crew were different. Two weeks on and the looks of disgust, curious stares and speculative glances still hadn't stopped. He scowled despite himself. Why couldn't they just get over it already. There had been a problem, he had fucking solved it.   
He was alive, uncompromised and Telford was fixed. Kind of. As well as he was going to be. The fact that fixing him had let the cat out of the bag and abruptly terminated their "arrangement" was awkward enough. He didn't need their opinions, he didn't need their disdain and he certainly didn't need their fucking pity.  
With a soft exhalation of breath he let out some of the muscle tension he was holding in his face, relaxed the muscles momentarily and replaced the cold mask of his expression. As he lifted his face and glanced around, the faces looking at him turned away quickly, conversation rising in awkward response. One face remained, Camile Wray. Unable to avoid it he met her eyes, expecting a familiar response -  
\- which wasn't there.   
She regarded him with a look, considering, not uncomfortable, no shyness or discomfort. He stared back, suddenly a little unsure, waiting for her expression to change, but it didn't. He raised an eyebrow, not looking away. She looked him over again, then nodded, just once. An acceptance. Rush let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and nodded back. She understood. Action needed. Job done.


	4. Exorcise

Telford walked into his quarters, the bulkhead hissing closed behind him. He walked to the bed avoiding looking in the mirror though really he should take a look at the damage to his face. He put his fingers up to his eyebrow and winced at the pain. His finger tips slid wetly over his brow and when he brought them away they were wet with the blood he expected to see.   
He was just trying to take his mind off it. Just trying to take his mind off of him. What they did. What Telford did himself. What Rush had done. Sparring was a release, got the tension out, proved he was…  
He gritted his teeth and walked to the mirror, forcing his eyes straight to the cut on his brow which was slowly oozing blood. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and dabbed at the cut with it before looking back up and catching his own gaze in the mirror, brown eyes staring out at him.  
Brown eyes, brown eyes looking down at him with a slightly regretful look, as he…spun away from the mirror.   
How long was this going to haunt him? His own mind was a treacherous demon. He should be fine. His career was safe, the brainwashing was the reason for it all, it wasn't him that had done all that. That wasn't him. He caught a glimpse of brown eyes reflected back in the glass top of the table. He was not that kind of man…


	5. Avenge

He was going to die. She had no idea when, she had no idea how, but Nicholas fucking Rush was going to die.   
Three weeks with no response from Telford. A sudden break in communications, radio silence. Another two weeks it had taken her to find out what had gone on.   
Nicholas fucking Rush. Too damn clever for his own good. Kiva picked up the coffee cup from the table in the rented apartment and hurled it across the room, startling the cringing lackey in the doorway. Porcelain shards and hhot coffee sprayed across the carpet as the cup shattered on the wall.  
"Intelligence suggests that Rush…" The man looked even more uncomfortable and she recalled Varro was entirely straight, previously married, "…he suffocated Telford whilst having sex with him."  
Kiva looked up. "Is Telford dead?"  
"No. Rush resuscitated him."  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She swept the table clear of everything with one furious sweep, ignoring the crash of delicate electronics to the floor. She turned back to Varro.  
"Our cover is broken." She snapped. "Round everyone up. We're moving on."  
Nicholas fucking Rush was going to die. She would torture him to death herself.


End file.
